


Dangerous Blues

by seijohs



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Young Veins
Genre: ;), Alternate Universe, M/M, POV First Person, do u know how much ryan ross kills me because i sure do, who knows - Freeform, will there be sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:57:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6841675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seijohs/pseuds/seijohs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan imagined himself on the stage, singing blissfully as his nimble fingers plucked at the cool, metal strings of his guitar, thousands of people there to hear him pour his heart out for them. But that was never going to happen. Not anymore. He was stuck. Stuck managing his ex-friend, who he grew to despise, all because of a petty little argument. He gave up on his writing, and just about everything else, too. Now he had nothing but the ocean shore and his job- nothing more, nothing less.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dangerous Blues

**Author's Note:**

> all my fics are on wattpad btw for easier reading okay so my account is camisado- and i have like everything there

I should have known better, as always.

A kid like that? Never keeps a secret.

And yet- I fell for it.

If only I wasn't such a _stupid_ kid, drunk in what I thought was "love". The mere thought of it makes my blood boil.

And even though I went through _so_ much, it turns out, love _doesn't_ exist. It used to keep me going at night, until I found it was just a sick joke life played on me. That's what they don't tell you. But I wish they did.

I felt stupid.

Like a little kid chasing his dreams. But his dreams were dragons, and so were mine.

I kept my enemies close. _Huh._ Figures.

Maybe it wasn't meant to be- _if_ I believed in fate, which I didn't.

And now, thanks to him, I'm stuck _managing_ the job _I_ wanted, and _he's_ got it.

I made my way up to the dressing room door.

_Brendon Urie._

It was printed out in Times New Roman. A little too fancy for my liking, same goes for him, I'd say.

Hearing his name is venom to my ears, but I have to hear it. And eventually, it'll probably drive me to Death's very doorstep, I suppose.

It's funny how things change.

I knocked on the door three times.

"Come in!" Rang a voice muffled by the door, so cheerfully, he probably thought I was room service. Well, I wasn't.

I scowled, making little effort to turn the brass doorknob, and unfortunately, it worked. I leaned on the wooden door, not quite barging in, but nearly.

I looked around the mildly crowded room. It wasn't stuffed with people, but just things I couldn't fathom to afford on my own expense, _of course._

I pressed my lips together, noticing the flatscreen TV and the brilliantly decorated chocolate fountain in the corner. One of the many things I would consider luxury items. Most of the rest of that list was placed cleanly somewhere in the room. Like money decorating a tiny suite.

This was supposed to be mine. All _mine._ And _not_ his.

I was the one that planned things out. I had my entire future planned out, but my years of hard work somehow escaped my grasps and landed in the hands of the entirely wrong person.

He just merely winged it all. Sometimes I found myself believing in luck. Because of him.

It's crazy- the things he can do to me.

"Wassup?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the football game that was currently playing on the TV.

He was snooty and I hated it. His glamorous suits. His hundred dollar rings. Again, those were supposed to be mine. Rich bastard.

"Yeah, yeah, _wassup_." I mumbled. I couldn't even deny the fact that it sounded as if my next words would be 'bah humbug'.

A moment of silence filled the air. He didn't care. In fact, he probably didn't even notice. Too caught up in watching men in leggings and shoulder pads chase an irregular shaped ball across a field.

And that was humanity.

"Ahem, well..." I struggled to speak. I shouldn't've. Inside, I was boiling.

"Man, Ry, you're really awkward still, aren't ya? Just like back in the day when-"

He was oblivious to his choice of words. .He didn't seem to realize yet that those words can drive me to thoughts of paradise, but that's bad. I don't have it anymore. I can't get it back.

It's a living Hell.

"Don't call me Ry. It's Ryan." I said sternly.

"Aw? What's wrong? I always used to call you Ry."

"Stupid idiot" I mumbled under my breath. He didn't hear.

He still wasn't looking at me and I couldn't figure out if that was good or bad.

Sports announcers kept filling my head with those commercial like voices. It was comedic if you looked at it differently. The crowds cheers wilted me. It just reminded me further of what I lost. Disgusting. So ignorant.

"...And he's got it!"

"...Hey Fred, I can't believe what I'm seeing with my very own..."

"...Neither can I, Chris..."

I preferred hockey.

I was quick to move, not that he would have seen it coming. I snatched the remote from off a small table, immediately switching it off.

And just like a chain reaction, his head whipped around to meet my glare, right after the TV went black.

"What the fuck was that for?" He exclaimed. I wasn't surprised.

"Listen to me. I hate that noise by the way. Pointless rambling."

"It's commentary." He replied simply. I'm glad I was sparking our rivalry up again. I hated when he acted softly to me, I couldn't return the favour.

I envied him too much. I would never admit that, of course.

"Anyway." I was ready to get straight to business, that is, until I forgot what I had to tell him.

We stared at eachother for a few moments, one of us paralysed from thinking and the other impatiently waiting.

Scratch that, I was both of them. Brendon was just annoyed that I had turned off his stupid game.

"Anyway...?"

"I-I, oh forget about it, I'll tell you later." I waved him off dismissively.

My train of thought didn't change.

I turned to walk out the door, saying goodbye to all the odd contraptions in the room.

I sighed, sensing him turning the TV back on, though just as I was about to walk out the door, my name was being called for. Again.

I wish he never knew my name. I remember I always wanted him to call my name. Now I can't stand it. If only we never-

"Oh, Ryan, one last thing. I'm requesting something for the tour."

I turned around. I didn't want to deal with this shit again. Everytime he asked for something it was like I had to queue in the Titanic for him. Not a one-man job.

"As long as you do it Foo Fighters style, then I don't mind."

"No, no, I promise it's just a little thing."

I gestured for him to go on.

"Can I have..." I braced myself, "Can I have a shitton of those cheese chips?"

I raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "Excuse me?"

"Cheese chips? You know what those are, right?"

"I'm afraid I do not." His jaw fell to the ground. He might have an issue hinging that back together.

"Oh. My. God. Okay so they're basically like these chips you know, normal chips like say... I don't know, potato chips or whatever. And get this-"

I didn't hear the rest of what he had to say. I was too busy wondering what got me here in the first place. It probably wasn't supposed to happen this way. If there is a God, he better be throwing me a time machine right now. I think I made a mistake. Nevermind that, I just want to be a kid again. Eternally. If only one could be blessed such a power. Sometimes I want to be Peter Pan. Or at least live in Neverland. Sounded easy enough. It baffled me as to why Wendy wanted to leave.

I was interrupted.

"Ryan? Are you still listening?"

He was probably still talking about those stupid chips. I don't think I missed anything.

"Yeah. Well, I got ya there, I'm gonna go now." I motioned for the door.

"Alright, see ya later dude." He grinned wildly. Like a child. He must think I'm actually getting those chips for him.

With that the TV was on again.

I exited the room. And for some reason all I could see now was his dumb smiling face, grinning ear to ear, those pearl white teeth shining quite visibly. I don't understand any of this. I didn't like it. I had to clear myself of such a look. Things like that can drive a man mad. Depends what type of man, but two and two together could do.

I swear, sometimes I was more like a mother to him. I was practically qualified in all the right field to be his mom, may as well start now right?

But I really rather wouldn't. Things like this I couldn't understand.

He was going onstage soon. I'll get my revenge on him. He'd have to miss the rest of his football game, but that was hardly revenge. One day, though, I'll show him. And I'll show him real good.

I didn't know if I was supposed to be onstage with him as he performed. I never really was. I assume he was used to it. He never had another manager. It was just me and him against the world. But then again, I was a mere apparition. I meant nearly nothing.

I usually skipped his concerts or hid around in the back where he thought I was never there. I never really was there completely though. Always lost in some way.

Lost in my head. Lost in the crowd. Lost in my daydreams. Just visualising myself in Brendon's place. I could have the world. Quite like a modern day rock-star. But to me, Brendon was more of a sell-out. Any manager capable of saying that to their clients while keeping them must have balls. Or just weak posture. Could've been the same thing at one point.

Heaven knows. I don't.


	2. Chapter 2

I watched the concert this time.

The first time in god knows how long.

But it was just like I remembered it. Nothing special. Nothing new. In fact, it was as if he had perfected a game and kept doing the same moves over and over again to achieve the same score.

I should do something- but then again, he gets his money and I get my money. It's pretty decent. For him, it surpasses decency.

I wait in the back until he comes out. There he was again, sweat adorned in that stupid sparkly suit. I suppose his logic in that sparkly golden suit was something connected to a star of some sort. If you ask me, that's the worst, cheesiest thing anyone could do- and I once left a Valentine's card in someone's desk.

"Hey Ryan! Did ya see that one?" He asked as somebody rushed to his side with water.

"Yup." I replied, rather unenthusiastically.

He stopped. Like me watching his concert was like watching a UFO fall to earth. 

"For real?" He whispered.

"Uh huh."

"Wow."

"Yup.'

We stared at eachother for a while, eyes darting around the room before he took a large swig of his water bottle and poured the rest on his head.

I watched as the water dripped down his hair, then onto his face, sliding down his neck and under his clothes.

I stared a little too long.

"Ryan?" His voice piped up, watching me oddly.

"Yeah?" I jolted up, popping my eyes up to look at the corner of his eye. Just so I wouldn't have to look in his eyes.

"What's wrong?"

I scoffed.

"Well," Quite a lot actually, "Wouldn't pouring water on your suit ruin it or something. I mean, it's made out of glitter or whatever."

I began mixing my words into one big soup of mumbled phrases, just so it would seem as if I didn't care too much. I really didn't to be honest. That was a cover up.

"Dunno. Guess I'll just have to wait and see." He gave me a lopsided smile. I blanked and look back at him. Probably formulating some half-assed excuse for a 'smile'.

"Guess so."

"You know what Ryan?"

I raise my eyebrow to let him know I'm interested. He takes the hint a continues.

"I kinda miss this. You and me- you know? We should hang out or something again. I think that'd be fun."

_Fun._ If fun was looking at him as he tried to figure out if I was okay, then it must be fun.

"Uh..."

He quickly adds something. 

"I-I mean you don't _have_ to agree or whatever. It's just a suggestion, you know. Uh, yeah."

_Oh._

I should probably save this.

"Um... I don't know. I'm reallllllly busy these days as a manager and all- you know. I might have to pass on that but like, it's not definite."

By save 'this' I mean save _myself._

Brendon gives me a half understanding nod and lowers his head, as if he's shameful of something he's done. I really don't see a reason why he should feel ashamed,  but he just _does._ But it was just a guess. Or an estimate.

"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair, shame of rejection clear in his voice, "Yeah, uh, I totally get it, you know. Livin' that busy life!" He makes overreactive hand gestures accompanied by an incredibly pathetic laugh that even _I_ know is a sad one.

I might be being an asshole. But it's a dog eat dog world. Every man for himself. I can't be damaging myself- even if that means just a little short day with someone.

He _is_ my only client though.

"I should probably go now, though. You know- uh, I've got some songs to work on so I'll just-"

He makes his way out the door.

Maybe I could save this for him. I know what rejection feels like. Maybe I should try to be kind to him for once.

"Brendon- _wait._ " I call after him.

He turns around and stares at me, silently pleading for me to go on with his eyes.

I really considered making this a sitcom and asking him to get me something, but that would ruin the slight chance I have of trying to be nice to him. I decide to agree with him.

"Um, I change my mind. I'm probably not all that busy. If you want to go out somewhere sometimes, I guess I could find a time." He probably heard the raising and lowering expression in my voice- a clear sign of nervousness, but I really couldn't be too bothered to care right now.

His smile lit up the room. I couldn't tell if he was trying to hide it or not- but if he was, he wasn't doing a damn good job of it.

"Really?" He squeaked out, then looked panicked, "I mean- _ahem._ Really?" His pitch changed.

I didn't know what he was so excited about. I had a few good guesses, but I couldn't really tell.

"Uh okay so I'll text you when I'm free and we could go find something to do I guess. How does tomorrow sound?" He asks.

I scan my internal calendar before remembering my job is so un-jobish that I have literally nothing to do for the next month or so- besides follow Brendon around.

"Yeah, alright. See you then, I guess."

"See you then!" He takes large strides out the door, seeming happier than when he entered. For the longest time I thought we had mutual hate. It might be one-sided, now that I think about it.

-

It's sunset and I'm sitting at the port.

This port is unfamiliar. I'm not from here.

Being on tour and all, I'm in Nebraska. I was surprised to find out that they even had a port over here. Besides, Nebraska is in the middle of the U.S., which is practically nowhere.

Well now I know that _The Port of Omaha_ has the absolute shittiest view on Earth. That's something to keep in mine, I suppose.

But a sunset is a sunset, and as long as I can see those dark pinks mixing with the bright orange over a river of dangerous blues, then that's all that matter.

River, ocean, bay, sea- they're all the same to me. 

There aren't no boats pulling in, so I don't have to worry about any horns ruining my evening.

I sit and watch the current, lapping over itself. The seagulls above are a constant reminder that I'll always have something to worry about.

But really, one of the things I need the _least_ right now is worrying about a half-brained bird shitting on my head.

I take my time to wonder.

This is my release.

Everyday I find a place where I can empty out my thoughts, letting them flow into a water of deep blues, where I know that wherever I go, how much I forget- it will always be with me in the sea.

All my memories- ever since I was 15- have been buried here alongside my thoughts from yesterday, the day before, the day before that, and that, and that, and that, and so on.

I'm currently 26.

That's 11 years of memories.

That's roughly 3920 days.

And with an average of 40 things to think over each day, that's 156, 800 memories and thoughts. All pooled into this gigantic body of water that stretches across the Earth.

And that scares me.

The fact that everybody is accessible to my memories, and one day, when the sun burns out the Earth, they'll all be gone.

I stand up to walk by the water, racking my brain for the closest route to my hotel. It's probably best to go back where I came from, so I headed back, past the bench and past the water- until I'm into the city and on my way.

-

The next day I wake up to my alarm.

I remember that I actually have something on my schedule today.

And it's to meet up with Brendon for some sort of chat and what not.

I'm really not ready.

So many people he could've chosen to hang out with, and _I_ was chosen.

I really regret my decision.

But I dress up nicely anyway.

I do my hair just right anyway.

I spend 20 minutes staring back at myself in the mirror anyway, just so I could look _good._

I wonder if he'd notice. If he does, I'll just tell him that I do this whenever I meet up with someone. That's believable. I only go out with my friends once every month.

I spend 4 hours until I get that text message.

And I spent all that time googling places to go just in case I was supposed to choose.

Omaha is a nice place- but then again, I could say that for all these cities and never want to come back.

The text asks me if now's okay. I spend a minute reading over the response multiple times, making sure I don't get anything wrong- even if it's only 3 words.

_'Yeah, now's cool.'_

I press send and wait eagerly for a reply- though I try to convince myself I'm not excited.

_'Alright, meet me outside the venue in 10.'_

II check the clock. It's currently 1:15PM.

I quickly pull on my shoes and rush out the door, finding my way back to the venue he played the night before. I kept bustling through the streets, not paying mind to anything around me but the time until I reached _Slowdown._

Just as the clock on my phone flips to 1:26, I lean against the brick wall. And as if the brick wall was a trigger of some sort, Brendon comes walking quickly towards me.

"Heeey, Ryan! What time is it?"

"1:26." I reply immediately. I might've looked desperate.

"Dammit. I left at what... 1:15? Ah, I should keep track of time myself. How long have you been here?" He asks, trying to start conversation.

"Just got here at 1:26- so I just got here a couple seconds before you did." I threw in a weak laugh, but he smiled in return.

"Cool. Alright, so I did get some shit planned out of today. Do you have to be home by a specific time?"

"Nope."

"Perfect! Okay so first stop... I think it's this food place I found around here. When do you usually have lunch?"

"Whenever I'm hungry." 

This time it wasn't much of a lie. I didn't have specifically planned out times for anything. It was just when I felt like it. Sometimes I don't eat dinner for 2 days in a row- until I feel like I want dinner. I doubt it's healthy, but it does get the job done.

"Cool. Okay, so it's at... um, oh! It's right around the block! Perfect."

"Saves us some time, I supposed."

"Yup."

-

We didn't speak the whole way. I bet he was thinking of what to say like I was. It wasn't a long walk, but it was enough for me to think of a few topics.

We walked into the building. It was a rather casual place to eat. It had a modern vibe, a more comfortable one.  
  


Once we took a seat, we took a look at the menu stuck to the wall.

I ordered a burger and so did he.

Then he began to speak.

"So... _Ryan._ We sure have an awful lot to talk about, huh?"

There was some edge to his voice but I couldn't understand why. If he invited me just to bitch about me I'd really rather be at home doing nothing.

"Yeah, I mean... how many years?"

Too much to count.

"We don't talk about much personal stuff- whenever it is that we _do_ happen to talk." I concluded.

"Wow. Glad you feel the same way!" He popped in a smile, resting his head on one arm.

I paused. He was wrong. Very wrong. I really don't want to talk to him, just in case something bad happens again. Truth is, I've never been hurt ever since I started acting like his manager and not just some lover boy. Seems as if all the bad thoughts have been walled up behind miles of brick, and I couldn't get back to the even if I tried. I just hope he wouldn't break it.

"Yeah."

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before the waiter dashed by, hastily placing our plates on the table.

"Here you go..." She looked at me, then at Brendon, then back to me- before adding a comment that we all could've done without, "You guys are _so_ cute, by the way." She beamed at us.

I was the first one to react, by sitting up as straight as possible with an alarmed expression. Brendon's eyes were wide and he started to wave his hands around signalling 'x' gestures.

"N-no we're not-"

"Oh my god!" She brought her hands to her mouth in surprise, her face going red, "I am _so_ sorry. I swear, I didn't me to- I mean, I was just assuming! My bad. Oh my god I shouldn't assume I'm s-"

"Hey, it's okay." Brendon cut her off, giving her a sympathetic smile. I wonder how he really felt.

"Really? Because-"

This time I chose to intervene.

"No no, don't worry about it. Mistakes happen."

She gave a quick nod and hurried off.

It took a moment for me to face Brendon.

"Yikes." He spoke up, giving me a lopsided smile, "We should really watch out a bit."

"Do I really look _that_ gay." I blurted out. It wasn't what I really meant to say, but then again, I didn't regret asking. Now I wanted to know. Brendon did seem a little shocked at first however.

"I, er... I mean. Everyone looks a little gay if you look at them that way... right?" He laughed awkwardly.

A mistake that question was, but I really just wanted to know the truth.

"Oh. Haha, alrighty then."

"Yeah."

"Mhm."

"So."

I quickly dove into my burger, taking in an entire mouthful. I wouldn't doubt that I looked extremely rude.

Just as I finished swallowing it, I decided that I should bring up a topic to speak about.

"This is really good." I commented.

"Is it really? I haven't tried yet."

I motioned for him to try it, and just as he finished, he looked at me and said:

"What the fuck? I never knew a fucking _hamburger_ could be so good."

I laughed- this time it was genuine.

"Hey, slow down mister. I didn't know a hamburger could make someone so excited."

"What?"

He clearly wasn't too sure what I was talking about.

"You took one bite and now you're swearing like a sailor." I clarified.

He rolled his eyes at me. 

"But dude. You don't get it. It's just-" He inhaled deeply, " _So fucking good."_

"Whoa, slow down before you jizz yourself." I laughed.

He just kept staring at the hamburger lovingly, as if it was his child.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

**-**

 

 


End file.
